


Off the Beaten Path

by agentfern



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Bed & Breakfast, Jealousy, M/M, Miscommunication, Pining, Trans Newton Geiszler, Travel, Travel Mishaps, Vacation, but if hermann was a candle he'd be pine-scented, is it mutual? we don't know ;), it's only mentioned briefly but it's important to me, most of this was written before uprising came out, precursors do not interact, so for the sake of storytelling we're mostly going to ignore its existence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-05 17:32:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16372013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentfern/pseuds/agentfern
Summary: The world isn’t ending anymore, and Hermann is left wondering about the future of his relationship with Newt. Will a lecture tour gone awry and a pit-stop in a scenic German village force him to confront his feelings?





	Off the Beaten Path

It has been the same scenery outside for three hours now: scattered trees, the odd farmhouse, rolling hills and more rolling hills. Every now and then the sun peeps out from behind a cloud, but it refuses to put in a real appearance. Hermann is reading a magazine.

The steady chug of the train is interrupted by a scuffle from across the table.

“Oh shit!” Newton says. There’s a rustle of papers. Hermann looks up.

“Did you spill something again?” he asks.

“No,” Newt says indignantly. “I’m not a _complete_ mess.”

Hermann’s gaze travels up from Newt’s dog-eared notebook, lingers a moment on his stubbly chin, and lands somewhere near his damaged left eye, still bloody from drifting.

“Hmm,” he says.

“Don’t you ‘hmm’ at me.”

“You have a jelly stain on your shirt.”

Newt waves a hand, nearly knocking over his coffee cup. “I’ll wash it once we get to the hotel,” he says.

Hermann returns to his article. It’s his favourite magazine, but his thoughts are elsewhere, and he finds it hard to focus. Newton has stopped scribbling in his notebook and is looking out of the window instead, watching the scenery. It’s overcast outside, but a cool light is diffused through the clouds; it’s gentle against his face. Hermann can’t help but stare.

Newt always looks a mess, but there’s something endlessly endearing about it. He's always running his hands through his hair, making it stick up at odd angles, and his skinny tie practically cries out to be adjusted. Hermann is sorely tempted to straighten it, or perhaps to tighten it so that it stops going askew every five seconds. From there it isn’t difficult to imagine leaning a little closer, bringing their lips together, Newton’s hand at the back of his neck—

Hermann drops his eyes to the crossword. Best think about something else.

He can’t, is the problem. There isn’t much else to focus on in their compartment of the train. Even the magazine, and its accompanying science-themed crossword, are proving to be poor distractions.

He stares sullenly at the train car’s carpeting, counting the tiles of the pattern, the near-invisible edges where it repeats. This trip was a mistake. The war is over, and he saw no sign of what he was hoping to find in Newton’s head. Nothing good can come of mooning over his old lab partner.

So why is he still hanging around?

“You ever going to finish that crossword?” Newt asks, snapping him out of his reverie. “Because if not, I call dibs.”

“You can _help,_ ” Hermann says. He is unwilling to hand over the magazine after doodling in the margins. “What’s the training simulator kaiju that attacks with its tongue?”

“Belobog,” Newt says. “Easy. Didn’t you read that paper?”

“I’d forgotten,” Hermann says.

“Yeah, it was the coolest thing! I think they modelled it after a mantis shrimp’s claws. It’s supposed to teach the pilots to avoid close-range combat.” He grins. “I mean, if I’d been designing it I would have gone for venom sacs, or some sort of _actual_ claw, but the tongue attack thing works too. It’s pretty unexpected, you know?”

“Sort of reminds me of Otachi.”

Newt’s smile fades. “Yeah,” he says. “Hey, were there any other questions about kaiju?”

Hermann bites his lip. “I’ve answered all of them. Can you think of a kind of mollusk that starts with G? It’s eight letters.”

Newt perks up a bit. “I know this one!”

“Oh?”

“Yep, eight letters, starts with G…”

What’s he getting at? He’s smirking.

“…ends with ‘ottlieb’…”

Hermann sighs. “Really, Newton.”

“Come on, dude. You have a hard outer shell.” He reaches across the table and gives Hermann a poke, just for fun. “And squishy insides.”

“Debatable,” Hermann says, but Newt will debate it with him until the cows come home, so it’s no use.

“You do. I’ve seen, remember?”

Curse the drift. Curse the entire concept of drifting, and his own treacherous emotions, and Newt’s penchant for getting into trouble. “I’m not a mollusk, Newton.”

“All right, all right,” Newt says, hands held up in defence. “I’m just saying there’s some similarities, okay? No need to get your panties in a twist.”

Hermann gives him a withering look.

“I mean, I guess you’re not _completely_ spineless…”

“Are you going to help me with this crossword or not?”

Newt drums his heels against the seat. “Nah,” he says, “Teasing you is more fun.”

 

 

The teasing devolves into an argument about the precise definition of “mollusk,” and then a debate about some of the other crossword hints. At one point Hermann suggests they fill in ‘Geiszler’ for the mollusk clue, seeing as it fits better; the few minutes of annoyed silence that follow are brought to an abrupt end when Newt, much to Hermann’s chagrin, discovers that he miscounted the spaces. There are nine of them. He’s never going to hear the end of this.

“You’re a _mathematician,_ dude,” Newt says. “Learn to count!”

Hermann doesn’t mind the bickering, really. It’s routine. He likes routines. Sure, Newton can be utterly insufferable at times, but maybe that’s a good thing. It’s certainly a good distraction from the way the way he smiles when he tells a joke, and his madcap but charming rambling, and the smattering of freckles across his nose that Hermann’s trying not to notice.

Late at night, though, when it’s quiet, and aches and pains keep him awake, Hermann has nothing to distract him. The image of Newton in the soft evening light keeps popping into his head, unbidden. For once he looks calm. Hermann wonders what might have happened had they met differently, had the world _not_ been ending. A younger him, a younger Newt—would they even have liked each other? _Probably not,_ Hermann decides, remembering their first meeting. But maybe… And then there’s the question of their relationship _now._ Could things be different, if only he said something? They’ve been inside each other’s heads. Surely Newt knows, and doesn’t reciprocate. Surely there’s nothing more to be said.

But what if there is?

His thoughts drift around uneasily until the early hours of the morning, when he finally falls asleep.

 

 

The next morning, the train stops in a small town so that the passengers can get out and stretch their legs. Newton insists on going exploring.

“We’ll be in Berlin by this evening,” Hermann points out. They only have an hour or two, and he would be happy to stick to the small park near the train station. But Newton is adamant.

“When are we going to get another chance to look around a small town in the German countryside?” he says. “We’re going to be doing lectures, like, _forever,_ dude.”

“I grew up in a small town in the German countryside,” Hermann grumbles. But he follows Newton out of the park.

The two of them walk down a street lined with shops. The buildings are small, but well-maintained, and the whole place has a cozy feel to it. Despite its earnest appearance, though, Hermann has the sneaking suspicion that the town lives on tourism. He knows the symptoms.

“Oh my god, look at this cafe,” Newt says. “Look at it! It’s like something out of a postcard.”

The cafe is indeed picturesque, with brightly-painted shutters, and window boxes overflowing with flowers.

“We should stop for breakfast,” Newt says.

Hermann checks his watch. “I don’t think we have time,” he says.

“Come on, how long could it take? Besides, they wouldn’t leave without us.”

Hermann has his doubts about this, but he’s hungry, and the smell of latkes frying is enough to win him over. “All right,” he says, “I suppose it can’t hurt.”

They sit down at a table for two, just next to the window. The sun is out today, and beech trees sway in the breeze outside.

“It’s been ages since I’ve been in Bavaria,” Hermann says.

“Nice to be home?”

 _Home is relative,_ Hermann thinks, but he doesn’t say it.

Newt is right, in a way, though—the food is like home. When he looks over the menu, he’s almost taken aback at the selection of familiar dishes. The shatterdome in Hong Kong had decent rations during the war, especially compared to some of the other PPDC outposts—he’s heard horror stories about Anchorage—but he’s realizing now how much he missed having real food.

They place their order after only a few minutes’ consideration, and dive quickly into conversation.

“So what comes after this lecture, anyway?” Newt asks.

“More lectures, I imagine.”

“Yeah, but like, are we going to keep doing them together? Eventually someone’s going to ask us separately,” says Newt, sounding perhaps too hopeful about this.

Hermann shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “It doesn’t make any difference to me,” he says, knowing full well that he will be crushed if Newt loses interest in working with him. He can’t in good conscience guilt him into staying, though.

“Okay,” Newt says. His voice is a little strained. Hermann appreciates the effort not to sound eager to leave, although it’s clearly failing. “I guess we’ll see how things go.”

 

 

All told, they have a lovely breakfast. The food is delicious, and the two of them linger over coffee for some time afterwards. Hermann feels pleasantly warm inside, although he has the sense it isn’t just from his beverage.

Unfortunately, they’re interrupted by a train whistle outside.

“Hermann, the train!” Newt scrapes his chair against the floor in his hurry to stand up.

“I told you,” Hermann says, dropping a few bills on the table to pay for their meal. “I told you we’d be late.”

“Come on!”

Hermann scoops up his messenger bag and dashes after him. His legs ache already, and his cane is awkward on the cobblestones, but maybe Newton will get there in time, maybe—

But the train is already pulling away.

When Hermann arrives, Newt is standing on the platform, panting, his hands on his knees. “They left without us,” he says, between breaths. “I can’t believe it.”

Strangely enough, Hermann still doesn’t regret stopping for breakfast. “It’s fine,” he finds himself saying. “I’m sure we’ll manage.”

Newt does a double take. “You feeling all right, dude? You’re not going to complain about my time-management skills?”

“ _Lack_ of time management skills would be more accurate,” Hermann says.

“There it is.”

“But no, I’m not going to complain.”

Newt gives him a puzzled look, and Hermann shrugs. “It was a nice breakfast,” he says.

They sit down on a bench. “You know all our stuff is gone,” Newt says. “All our clothes, our toothbrushes, my notebook… Shit, Hermann, are you going to be okay without your meds?”

“I brought them with me.”

“That’s good.” He checks his pockets, and groans. “Oh no, I left mine on the train. And my passport, and—”

“I have it,” Hermann says.

“What?”

He clears his throat. “I brought some of your things with me on the off chance that… well… on the off chance that we were delayed,” he says.

“You took some of my stuff out of my bag because you didn’t trust me to get back to the train on time.” Newt thinks about this for a moment. Hermann is afraid he’s going to start yelling, or get up and leave for this egregious breach of personal boundaries, but instead he leans over to look in the messenger bag. “Well, what did you get?”

Hermann has a lot of things in his bag. In fact, as he’s pulling them out, it seems like he may have rather too many.

He has Newt’s notebook, and his medication, and all of his travel documents. He has his laptop, and his own medication, and his own documents; as well as a change of clothes, some charging cords, pyjamas—

“Hey, that’s the issue they interviewed me for,” Newt says, picking up the copy of _New Scientist._ “I didn’t know you were reading that.”

“You helped me with the crossword yesterday,” Hermann says.

They look at the pile of belongings on the bench between them.

“Have you really been carrying all that around? Jesus, dude, give your back a break.”

“One of us ought to be responsible,” Hermann argues, “And seeing as that’s not going to be you…”

“I can be responsible! I can be _so_ responsible. I kept a tank of sea monkeys alive on my desk for, like, a year, and I never forget my T shot, and—”

“I don’t think I have that in here, actually,” Hermann says, concerned.

“That’s fine, I switched to monthly after they cut some of the funding to medical. I don’t need it for another two weeks.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway, thanks for all this, but I’m not letting _you_ haul it around anymore. I’m carrying your bag to the hotel.”

“We don’t have a hotel yet, Newton.”

“Whatever.”

It’s not long before they do. Hermann makes a number of phone calls—to the rail services, to the PPDC, to the taxi company—and soon they’re on their way to the local bed and breakfast. Their bags will be waiting for them once they get to Berlin, and their lecture can easily be pushed back a few days, so everything is sorted out.

Hermann only hopes the rest of the trip will be as easy.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting anything to AO3! I finally overcame my perfectionism long enough to put something up lol. If you liked this first chapter I'd really appreciate it if you left me a comment :)


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